


Someone Who Knew

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond visits Celebrimbor in Eregion, soon after its founding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Who Knew

They stood side-by-side, faces raised upwards as they silently watched a large block of pale sandstone being laboriously winched into the air. All around them, buildings were in various states of construction, a city growing up before their eyes. They wandered through the streets. This district of the city was almost complete now. Celebrimbor was talking animatedly, about the difficulties they had had in transporting the sandstone from where it was quarried in this mountainous region, about the sophisticated system of sewers under the city, describing the modifications he himself had added to the layout of the streets, pointing out the holly trees that lined the wide central boulevard.

“They are beautiful, are they not, the holly trees? They are also tough, which is good in the climate we have in these lands. And they never lose their leaves.”

Elrond had only been half-listening, too busy drinking in the sights around him, but at this he smiled sympathetically. Celebrimbor, he knew, wished for nothing more than permanence, for a home which would endure and for a place where he could protect his people. Elrond could not say he blamed him. 

Eregion was, Elrond thought, about as Noldorin in design as it could possibly be. The buildings were all of crisp, grey-white sandstone, and had a kind of proud and heavy grandeur not seen in the delicate arches, graceful, sinuous designs and fluted columns of the Sindar. They arrived at the house Celebrimbor had designed for himself, one of the few that had already been completed. In design it was similar to the rest of the city, except that on the keystone above the front door was carved an eight-pointed star. Elrond swallowed. Had it been a good idea for him to come here? He and Celebrimbor had met before, of course, many times, and Elrond had mostly come to terms with his resemblance, in face and voice, to his lost foster fathers. The distinctive Fëanorian features, and the soft, clear voice, quieter, but recognisably similar to the one that had sung Elrond to sleep countless times, were difficult to push out of his consciousness. But the pain was not so bad now. It had faded to a dull ache, in the background of his mind where he had locked it away for safekeeping. But that had been in the well-known, safe environment of Gil-Galad’s camp. Here, he didn’t know how he would react. Well, he thought, it was most certainly too late to turn back now. He took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold, trying not to let Celebrimbor see his hesitation. Elrond almost thought he had succeeded, until he saw Celebrimbor’s look of concern. He seemed about to say something, and then appeared to think better of it.

The night found them seated in armchairs in front of the heavy stone fireplace in Celebrimbor’s study. A cheerful fire burned in the grate, and they had just finished a late supper (with Celebrimbor proudly pointing out the foods that the settlement grew itself) and each was now sipping a glass of wine. It was a companionable sort of time of the evening, a time for questions and for talk. But for the moment Elrond just sat staring pensively into his glass, fingernail unconsciously tracing the lines of the eight-pointed star cut into the crystal, and Celebrimbor did not press him. Finally, Celebrimbor spoke.

“Elrond… you know you will always be welcome here in Eregion. But when I heard from Gil-Galad that you were planning to visit, I thought, well…” he paused as if trying to decide how to continue. “I know this must be difficult for you.”

Elrond did not reply immediately. He swirled the contents of his glass thoughtfully, and stared at the dancing flames in the grate.

“I just… I keep wondering… is this what Elros would have had to do? When they first arrived on Númenor. Building a city, sowing crops, all of it.”

Celebrimbor blinked. This was not what he had been expecting. 

“I suppose he would have had to, yes, although the situation was a different one. An island settlement would face its own difficulties, and the soil and terrain is quite different too, so I hear. But, yes, Elros would have had to build his kingdom in not too dissimilar a way. Perhaps you should pay him a visit too at some point? Maybe in a few years. He is your brother, after all.”

Elrond would have gone already, if he had trusted his own feelings not to betray him. He had the constant impression that for Elros, time was running out. Maybe not this year, maybe not in a hundred years, but… Elrond didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him, and was glad when Celebrimbor spoke again.

“And as I said, you and Gil-Galad will always be honoured guests here. Although I quite understand if he is too busy with… well, being King. I never realised that ruling was such a full-time task until I tried my own hand at it. Sometimes I feel like I should have stuck to being simply a craftsman.”

A smile tugged at Elrond’s lips. “Really? I highly doubt that anyone of your house is physically capable of being ‘simply a craftsman’. It would have been a shock to me if you had _not_ founded your own city, from essentially nothing. It’s only to be expected, and if it had been otherwise, I may have started to seriously doubt your parentage.”

A cloud crossed Celebrimbor’s face. “I renounced my family, once. But I begin to see that it is perhaps not as simple as that. Once a Fëanorian, always a Fëanorian, so to speak.”

“Once a Fëanorian, always a Fëanorian.” Elrond repeated, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile. They touched their glasses together.

Their quiet laughter subsided and they lapsed back into silence for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Celebrimbor broke the silence.

“Elrond… everything that happened to you… I can’t help feeling somewhat _responsible_. Or responsible _for_ you. You are my adopted little cousin, after all. If there is anything you ever need, anything at all…”

“Celebrimbor, you and I both know that that I hold you entirely blameless in all that has happened. But thank you. Our situations are not entirely different, and sometimes it is just good to talk to someone who _knows_. Someone who…” he searched for the right words.

“Someone who wants so much to forgive…” Celebrimbor prompted, his expression animated now.

“…but is never sure whether he can. Or should.” Relief washed over Elrond. People were kind to him, by and large, offering advice, and their sympathy and condolences. But he didn’t want any of that. He wanted someone who _knew_. And now Elros was gone…

“Thank you” repeated Elrond quietly.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Someone Who Knew by Beleriandings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281124) by [pumpkinpodfic (thegreatpumpkin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/pumpkinpodfic)




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